The Daughter of Oropher - Lost snippets of Ringil's Revival
by Livingwater21
Summary: These are snippets to accompany the story "Ringil's Revival", told through the life of Rinith, the daughter of King Oropher and elder sister to Thranduil.
1. Part 1 - Nessa's Birth

**Part One - The Birth of Nessa**

"Ëaránna, you need to rest," I commanded the half elf I held by the hand. We were both kneeling on the ground. It had been seven days since Ëaránna gave birth to Nessa, and I saw that Ëaránna was still weak.

"I'll be fine, Riníth… I'm… just a little winded," Ëaránna panted. It had been her idea to take a short walk in the gardens of the Greenwood. I discouraged it at first, but she convinced me to come with her.

Now, Ëaránna's face was a little pale. She did not look like she had the strength to walk anymore. I noticed a small bower in the trees where a bench was strategically placed. I helped Ëaránna to her feet and nearly carried her to the shaded bench.

She sat down gratefully. "You sit here for a while," I said. "I will go get Erwood for you."

"What about Nessa?" Ëaránna asked about her infant daughter.

"I can watch her for a few hours. I'm sure she won't be any trouble." Ëaránna gratefully accepted my offer. I made sure she was comfortable, then found Erwood cleaning his hunting weapons. He immediately stopped his task to go sit with his wife.

I then found one of my healers caring for Nessa in Ëaránna's chamber. I dismissed the healer and sat down near the wooden crib. Nessa was asleep with her tiny fingers clutched together and her toes curled up.

I sat there for many long moments with a deep ache of longing in my heart. Though I had lived to see the end of two Ages, I had never married. Yes, I had been engaged even before Ëaránna was born. I still wore the ring the dwarf gave me on a chain around my neck. The ring did nothing to lessen the pain of his death.

I had never been able to take care of a child as my own, although I had helped to raise Legolas. He was not the same as Nessa, though. Nessa was much more vulnerable.

I saw Nessa squirm around in her crib. She started to wail from having her nap disturbed. I softly picked Nessa up and cradled her to my heart. This seemed to soothe the infant, for Nessa soon fell asleep.

I carried Nessa outside of the room she had been born in to keep her asleep. I did not stray far, walking in the light of a hundred lanterns that hung from the tree roots.

I sat down on a stone bench at the foot of one of the huge tree roots. I looked at Nessa's peaceful face. She was so calm and serene, just like the angel that Ëaránna named her after. I had never seen the Valar in person, though my mother had.

I felt another presence in the room of the hall. I looked up from watching Nessa and saw my brother standing not thirty paces from me. Thranduil wore his crown of spring flowers and green willow branches atop his head.

He stood watching me, then walked over to where I sat holding Nessa. Thranduil's steps were soft and almost hesitant. Though I had told him of Nessa's birth, Thranduil had not yet seen Nessa. He stood slightly to the side of the bench. "This is Erwood's child, then?" he asked. I nodded my head and put my finger to my lips.

Thranduil silently sat down next to me. He too stared at Nessa's sleeping form. I glimpsed a deep feeling of reverence and desire on his face. "Would you like to hold her?" I whispered.

Thranduil smiled. "You know my thoughts better than anyone, Riníth." I carefully handed the infant to him. Thranduil cradled Nessa's head in his arm. His ringed fingers brushed Nessa's brown-haired head. He was silent in thought for several seconds.

"Does Nessa remind you of Legolas?" I asked.

"To a small amount," Thranduil replied. "I sense something different in Nessa, though. Her muscles look strong for fighting, once she is grown enough to learn."

Nessa stirred in his arms and sleepily opened her eyes. She stared at me first, then at Thranduil. "And Nessa's eyes sparkle like green leaves in the sun," Thranduil continued. Nessa reached for one of the willow twigs in his crown and smiled.

Thranduil closed his eyes. I did not understand why he did this, but his face was a complicated mix of emotions. When he opened his eyes, I noticed a tear on his eyelid. Thranduil rose to his feet, still holding Nessa in his arms.

The next thing my brother did astounded me. With both hands, Thranduil slowly raised Nessa into the air and held her aloft. Then he spoke in my native tongue of Sindarin. "Nessa, daughter of Erwood, may the mighty hand of Eru bless you as you grow. You are pleasing in His eyes. May He protect you from whatever troubles befall you. Find strength in these halls of mine, never to leave without my blessing."


	2. Part 2 - My Capture

**Part Two - My Capture**

I tore my eyes away from Stream's and faced the door to the stable. I heard Stream's footsteps go up the ladder. The feet of the ones I hated came closer.

Although I had locked the wooden door, a single blow from the outside splintered it. The second blow tore the door off its hinges, causing it to crash to the floor. Through the door, I saw the evil slits of eyes of the first orc. In a flash, I recalled Ëaránna, lying in a pool of blood. Her lifeless hands reached towards the chest to protect her only child.

I snapped back to reality, and stood my ground facing the door, unafraid. The orcs stomped into the room one by one, their eyes meeting mine and weapons pointed in my direction. I drew my sword and held it, waiting for the orcs to strike.

The orcs all carried their weapon of choice: axes, swords, and hammers. They wore armor, but it was not war armor. It was lighter, for traveling. I searched for the weak places where I would need to strike.

A tall orc stepped towards me. "Where is it?" he demanded in the language I dreaded to hear.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying. I only speak the Common Tongue." This was a lie, of course. Though I was forbidden as a Teler to utter the Black Speech, I still understood it perfectly.

"Don't play games with me, She-Elf," the orc said, now in a broken form of the Common Tongue. "We know who you are." He took a step closer, holding his sword out. "Where is the Jewel, Riníth?"

I felt like the blood in my veins had turned to ice for a second at the sound of my name. I'd known they would come for me someday, but I hadn't _known_ when. "Safe," I replied. "You will not find it."

"You know where it is, though."

"It is not for any of you to find or _possess_ ," I declared. I knew the orcs must work in the service of someone else. I shuddered at the thought that they might work for the One I do not name.

The orc growled in frustration. Perhaps he thought I would be more agreeable, but I was determined to make this hard for him.

"If that's how it will be, then." He commanded a few of the orcs to guard me while the rest searched the stable. I did not flinch when several orcs aimed arrows at my neck.

The orcs tore through everything. They searched the second story, then moved on to the loft and lower stalls. I heard shouting from the room above me. The orcs had not found Stream, but they saw she had been here.

One of the orcs searched near Celeb's stall and found hoof and foot prints. I was relieved Stream had made an escape, but my relief was short-lived. The leader, named Laurskeen, commanded half of the orcs to follow the tracks. I heard the bone-chilling howls of the wargs as they ran off.

The orcs that guarded me tried to get me to tell them about Stream. All I told them was, "She's a friend who was visiting me. We work at the same place together." Though my response angered Laurskeen, I did not want to give away Stream's identity.

After searching the stable to no avail, the other orcs returned and surrounded me. Laurskeen ordered me to drop my sword. I refused and launched an attack on the closest orc to me. I wounded him and two others before they stopped me. An orc wrenched the sword out of my hands, and proceeded to bind them. The rope burned my wrists.

"Take her to the Hill Tower," Laurskeen commanded. The orcs dragged me down the stairs and out of the stable. I tried to defend myself with my legs. I stepped on one and kicked the other's knee. Then, before I could run away, I felt a sharp object connect with the back of my head. I fell forward and my face hit the floor.

I felt something furry underneath me. The object moved like a ship, rocking back and forth. I was too groggy to think of anything else.

Then, I felt the rain. It dripped on my face and down my neck, making me shiver. I opened my eyes slowly to see two ears in front of me. The ears were large and clipped, like they had been chewed on.

My eyes followed down the creature's back to what was in front of me. Two arms stretched past my waist and clutched the creature's neck. The arms were rough and strong.

I remembered now. The orcs had come for me.

The back of my head throbbed, and I felt dried blood in my hair. My hands were still tied behind me, and I now had a gag in my mouth. I guess the orcs thought I might cry for help. There was no one but the orcs and wargs out here anyway.

Dimly, I could make out a distant shape that looked like a tall flat hill. _Weathertop,_ I thought. _That's the 'Hill Tower' Laurskeen spoke of._ The fortress of Amon Sûl had long been forgotten, now used only as a border marker for the Shire.

The warg headed for the tall hill. My eyes were hazy, but I thought I saw lights near the top. I looked around and saw there were other orcs riding on wargs as well. The orc I rode with tightened his grip on me when the warg ascended the side of the hill.

The warg stumbled once or twice, for the sides were steep. I would have fallen off its back if not for the orc holding me. With difficulty, we reached the top.

What I saw made me gasp. Near the ancient stone pillars of the watchtower were more orcs who held sputtering torches. One orc, paler and taller than the rest, stood in the center of the pillars.

I was shoved down from the warg's back. The orcs picked me up and pushed me towards the pale figure. I was now able to examine him closely. His color was a rare white. On his face were scars from past battles. He wore a long knife in place of a hand on his right arm.

I had heard of him during the Second Age. His name was Azog, although the dwarves named him "The Defiler". Most believed he had been slain in a battle decades ago, although he loomed in front of me alive now.

Laurskeen spoke to him briefly, mentioning Stream's escape. Azog turned to my kneeling form. He stared at me, then brought his knife down. It did not touch me, but sliced through the cloth of the gag.

"You would not tell my scouts what they wanted to know," he said. "I will have mercy and give you one more chance. If you value your life, you will tell me the truth." He stepped closer to me, the point of his knife on my chest. "Where is the Silmaril?"

I knew the orcs would not kill me if they wanted me to tell. But I did not like the thought of remaining here as their captive for long. "What business is it to you if I speak or not?" I bravely spoke in Sindarin, angering the orcs. "You yourselves know it was destroyed long ago."

"Liar!" Azog yelled. He grabbed onto my robe and jerked me to my feet. "It was your dwarf scum lover who found it. I slit his throat myself. He gave it to you before we found him. What did you do with it?"

I was silent. Angry I would not answer, Azog threw me to the ground. My bones ached when I hit the ancient stones. "There was something else you wouldn't tell us. What happened to Nessa?"

They knew, then. That was the fear I had lived with for the fifteen years I had watched over Stream. That somehow, they would discover her identity. I still refused to say anything. "What happened to her?!" Azog screamed, kicking me.

"I know nothing." I tried to defend myself from Azog's blows by curling up into a ball on the ground.

"She's the girl, isn't she? The one that my scouts are tracking?"

"You won't find her," I replied defiantly. "She is safe."

"We will see." Azog turned and muttered to Laurskeen. I saw Laurskeen smile and motion to the armed orcs. They lifted heavy iron hammers from behind the pillars. The hammers were red from heat. The orcs circled me, holding the sizzling hammers. Though it still poured rain, it did nothing to quench the fire of their weapons.

"You will tell me exactly what you did with the Jewel," Azog said with a sneer, "and where Nessa is going. When you are ready to confess, you will say _I yield_."

Azog raised his knife hand and commanded the orcs to begin. They beat me with the hammers, again and again, relentlessly without stopping. The heat of the hammers scorched through my clothes, burning my skin.

At first I screamed at the pain of the hammers, but I soon became too weak to even do that. The pain was stronger than anything I had ever felt before. I now understood Stream's pain when she injured herself while using my spare bow.

I tried to remain strong by remembering those I loved. My father and mother. Idril. Thranduil. Legolas. And Stream. No, I must not think of Stream. I must not remember the terror in her eyes when the orcs came to Bree. Stream was too young to have that happen to her.

Then, I fell into despair. I saw all of those whom I loved morph into the orcs that were beating me. When Stream became Azog, I closed my eyes to try and blot out the image, but it was still there.

That was when I could not hold on and be strong any longer. "I yield," I cried with the strength I had left. Immediately, the orcs stopped attacking me. My whole body burned with excruciating pain.

The orcs drew back to let Azog stand facing me. He waited for me to speak. "I buried the Jewel in the ground so no one could find it," I whispered.

"But where did you bury it?"

"Inside my brother's kingdom," I answered. "The Greenwood."

"And the girl?"

"I...I don't know," I lied. "She was heading east."

Azog commanded two orcs to help me stand. "You will come with us when you've recovered your strength," he said. The two orcs half-dragged, half-carried me into the ruins of the Watchtower.

Everything was dark inside the tower. I assumed I was being led underground, for the air was dank and smelled of dirt. I was badly wounded. I felt like my body wasn't mine, it belonged to a stranger.

The orcs dragged me into a small, cold room. They put my feet in a pair of rusted chains, then sliced through the ropes that bound my hands. I rubbed my raw wrists to get my blood flowing.

They slammed the door of the room and left. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of this hold. I saw a dingy straw pallet with a blanket, along with a small table and rickety stool.

I collapsed on the pallet and lay there for what seemed like hours. The pain made it impossible for me to move. I drifted in and out of consciousness. The darkness in my mind clawed at me. I was too weak to fight against it.

I came back to consciousness and saw a light from underneath the door. A lone orc fumbled with a key, unlocked the door, and entered. He wore a heavy helmet that covered his face. The orc held a torch in one hand and a parcel in the other.

He placed the parcel on the table and removed the cloth.

"You're going to need this for the long journey ahead."

I painfully inched closer to the table while the orc relocked the door. Inside the cloth was food. There was dry bread, some rotten carrots, and meat, along with water.

I ate the carrots and bread out of hunger. I did not touch the meat since I did not know if it came from an animal or something else. The liquid I mistook for water was actually an extremely strong healing remedy the orcs concocted. It tasted horrible and burned my throat.

"You should drink as much as you can," the orc advised at my sour expression. "You're going to need all the strength you can get."

"What is it to you if I survive or not?" I spoke in Sindarin to mock the orc. Instead of jeering or snarling like the rest, he was silent for a moment.

"Because I still care for you, Riníth," he said in the Common Tongue. I gasped at the sound of my name. The orc placed the torch closer to him before removing his helmet.

"No, no, it can't be. Tell me it isn't so. He died years - an _age_ ago." Through the scars and crooked face of the orc, I saw his eyes. It was my half-brother. I had two half-brothers, and this was the younger one, Estelmist.

"No, Riníth, I still live, although I am not who you thought I was anymore."

"Why did you leave us? _Why_?" My heart broke again at the memory of Estelmist's death during the Second Age. The scouts found his blood, but never found his body. It would have been easier if Estelmist _had_ died instead of living as a traitor to my family and me.

"Power. I wanted power," Estelmist tried to explain. "I was the youngest, the weakest. I was nothing in his eyes. He was the king after Father died, not me."

"You hid from us for years. You…you were one of them with the hammers."

"Yes, and I apologize for that. If I had refused out of compassion for you, then I would have endangered both of us."

He leaned closer to me. I smelled the dirt and sweat as he whispered in my ear. "You need to get out of here while it's still dark." He unlocked my leg chains and helped me to my feet. "I have your weapons and a warg waiting for you outside."

Estelmist pulled me to the door of the cell and unlocked it as well. My mind was dazed, confused at what he was doing. "Do you have anywhere you can go to that's safe from the others?" Estelmist whispered, as he led me through the passageways to above ground.

"Yes, there is somewhere I can go." I still had one more concern. "Won't the others be watching the perimeter of the hill?"

"No," Estelmist answered. "I made sure that they are out of sight below ground." By now, the two of us had climbed up the dark staircase and were above ground. The sky was equally dark and gloomy as the ground below, which was a blessing for me as I would use it for a disguising cape against the rain and dark storm clouds still hovering in the sky.

I saw several wargs lying on the stones, sleeping. One or two woke up and growled at me, then stopped when they saw Estelmist. He quieted them with a command in the Black Speech.

On the outskirts of the stone pillars was a lone warg. He stood in the shadows, waiting for his master. The warg bared his teeth at me for a moment. Estelmist took my trembling hand, guiding it along the warg's furry neck in a soft patting motion. The warg sniffed my torn clothes and allowed me to sit on his back.

"Your weapons are right here." Estelmist pointed to a saddlebag. "Along with a few things you might need." He did not say anything else, did not touch me.

"Thank you, Estelmist." I saw him cringe slightly at the name. "I see there is some honesty still in you after all." I knew although Estelmist was now an orc, he was not one of those who were so far gone there was no turning back. There might still be hope for him, if he chose to accept it.

He turned away and headed back to the underground prison of darkness. I clutched the thick straps of the warg's reins, and urged him on towards Imladris.


	3. Part 3 - Before the Battle

**Part Three - Before the Battle**

I searched and found a large tent set up for the king in the center of the war camp. I hesitated a moment, afraid Thranduil would refuse to see or even speak to me. Although there were guards surrounding the tent, they let me pass after hearing who I was. I was thankful that some of the elves seemed to still recognize me after fifteen years.

Gathering all the courage I had, I parted the curtain and stepped inside. Directly facing me was Thranduil, who at the time was bending over a table. He straightened up and his normally collected face showed surprise at seeing me, his elder sibling.

"Riníth," Thranduil gasped in Sindarin, "what are you doing here?"  
"I'm here to try to change your mind. When I heard you were leading an army here, my suspicions were proved. I am disappointed in you, Thranduil."

"I did not have any other choice. The dwarves have thoroughly insulted me, in my own home! I offered peace twice now, and they have refused it."  
"But to declare open war? To steal something that never belonged to you? To help a village only for your own gain?"

I saw Thranduil was wounded by my accusations. "It does not have to be mine alone. Fight with me. We can share in the treasure and victory together, brother and sister."

"No!" I objected. "I will not take part in this war, at least not on your side. I will not be pulled down to your downfall." I said no more, instead I turned away slightly. A great struggle was happening inside of my heart. I loved Thranduil, but I knew that required doing what's right for them, even when it hurts.

Thranduil carefully walked over to me, sensing my fight. I felt him place his hands on my shoulders in a gesture of affection. "Riníth, what is it that has pulled us apart for so long? Why can't we be like we used to, forgiven and reconciled?"

"I do forgive you, it's just…" I sighed. I stared into his glassy blue eyes, searching for the right words to say. "I have grown old, too old to fight anymore. I am leaving soon, to sail where the living never die."

"No, please Riníth," Thranduil pleaded. "Do not speak like that. You still have many years left."

I smiled sadly at the thought of dreams never to be. "I am tired, deeply tired inside. My time is soon approaching. Thranduil, do not hold me back. I have finished what I have come to do." My eyes glazed over as faces of the past flashed vividly in my mind. "I want to see Idril again. And Father, and Mother. They are waiting for me."

Thranduil's hands released their hold on me. He turned away. I saw his body shake with sorrow.

"When you go," Thranduil asked me, his voice breaking, "could you… tell her that… I love her? Tell her… a day doesn't go by… when I remember her. When I see her face." I knew he spoke of his wife, who died many years ago. Thranduil never spoke of her to anyone, not even to my nephew Legolas. I knew his longing for her hadn't grown cold in those years.

Regaining his composure, Thranduil turned to face me. I saw tearstains on his face, although I said nothing about them. "Yes, I'll be sure to tell her." I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.

"Thank you, Riníth," Thranduil said. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You always did look out for me. You've been one of the closest people I had in my life."

"Even for a Teleri half sister?" I teased.

"Yes, even for a half sister. I have sometimes wondered if there was ever anything stronger than half blood between us. I will miss you greatly though, Riníth."

Thranduil paused before asking me a question. "I know you will probably refuse this, but is there anything I could do for you before you leave?"

"You could stop this war, but I know you won't, at least not for me." I became serious again. I thought carefully over Thranduil's request. "There is one thing you could do for me."

"What is it, dear sister?"

"It's for Nessa. For years, I have taught and loved her like a mother would her daughter. Although Nessa does have relatives, I want you to keep an eye on her. I'm not asking you for a home for Nessa. Just be there for her if she ever needs protection or help."

"Yes, of course I will," Thranduil promised.

I smiled with gratitude at my brother. I prepared to leave the tent, but before I lifted the flap, Thranduil called me. "Riníth, this is not farewell, is it?"

"No, it is not. This is only the start of the end. I will be looking for you." With that, I left my brother for the last time.


End file.
